Inconveniently Grounded
by Sherlock River Hekate
Summary: There's been no cases for a while and John has left a bored Sherlock at Baker st while he went to work. John receives a text that worried him a little. Sherlock/John implied


Inconveniently Grounded

John was sitting at his desk, a patient having just left his consulting room. His phone made noise in the drawer, alerting him to a text message. He was tempted to leave it there, it couldn't be of importance anyway, but then he remembered who he'd left at home. Sherlock Holmes hadn't had a case in three days, and he was incredibly bored. Swiftly John pulled his phone out of his desk, dreading what he would see when he unlocked it. He wasn't entirely sure why he bothered with the passcode, detective would crack it in moments if he wanted anyway.  
_'Where are you? I'm bored -SH'  
_John rolled his eyes and sighed, tapping out a reply.  
_'At work, I told you that this morning -JW'  
_He was just about to put the phone back when it beeped again.  
_'Come home. I'm bored -SH'  
_He couldn't believe how childish his roommate could be. He typed out a reply, before shutting his phone in his desk drawer and seeing his next patient. Part way through talking I his patient, John's phone went off. Ignoring it, he continued dealing with the man in his office, just a common cold, but the man swore he was dying. In the space of two minutes his phone went off six more times. When his phone went off for the seventh time, John cursed under his breathe and asked the man to excuse him.  
_'I'm more important, Entertain me -SH'  
'Where's your gun? -SH'  
'Don't worry, I found it. Why was it in in your bottom drawer? -SH'  
'John, it was empty. Where are the bullets? -SH'  
'Mrs Hudson took my skull again. Get it back. Again, she took my violin. –SH'  
'Why are there handcuffs in your top drawers? -SH'  
'Where are the keys to the handcuffs? -SH'_

The feeling of dread grew as John read the texts. He knew putting his revolver in the bottom drawer with his socks wouldn't stop Sherlock finding it, which was why he had the six bullets in his own jacket pocket. However, he hadn't expected him to look through the top drawer. For the most part the detective already knew what John kept in there from experience. He'd actually forgotten he even had the handcuffs in there. John checked his watch, 10 minutes to 12. His lunch break started at 12.  
_'Stay where you are, I'll be home soon -JW'  
_ A reply came back quickly  
_'I can't exactly go anywhere John -SH'  
_John turned back to his patient, eyes flicking to the clock every couple of minutes. As soon as his lunch break came he grabbed his coat and all but ran out of the clinic.

Hurriedly, John unlocked the front door of Baker Street, to be greeted by Sherlock sitting on the stairs.  
"You handcuffed yourself to the railings?" John asked in disbelief.  
"No, I'm just sitting here for the fun of it," Sherlock replied snarkily.  
"How did you handcuff yourself to the stairs?" John couldn't think of a single plausible scenario that could result in the detective handcuffed to the railings of the stairs.  
"That's not important," Sherlock snapped, "Now would you kindly get the keys to release me?"

John hurried up the stairs, planting a kiss on Sherlock's head as he went by. He knew that the keys should be in the same drawer as the hand cuffs. But when he reached his room he stopped dead. The contents of his top drawer had been up ended onto the bedroom floor. Obviously, Sherlock in his frustration had emptied the drawer, in search of bullets most probably. John knelt on the floor, searching through the bulk of the contents to find the keys. When he didn't see them the first time, he slowed down, meticulously searching. After doing that twice more, he stood and swiftly returned to the detective, still chained to the railings.  
"Sherlock," He started, "There's a small problem."  
"What is it, John?" Sherlock drawled, sounding thoroughly fed up with being chained to the stairs.  
"I can't find the keys," John admitted.  
"What do you mean, 'you can't find the keys'?" Sherlock snapped.  
"I mean they were in my top drawer, the drawer YOU carelessly emptied onto the floor. And now I don't know where they are." John's voice rose in frustration.  
"Well I can't stay like this forever!" Sherlock jerked his hands angrily, making the handcuffs clink.  
"I checked everywhere Sherlock," John told him, "I can't find the keys."  
"You obviously didn't check EVERYWHERE," Sherlock began before John cut him off.  
"Not another word, or I'll walk out and leave you here," he threatened.  
"What good would that do?" The detective asked, "When you returned I'll still be here, only much more bored."  
Joh had to concede that that was a much worse predicament. He almost wished he'd left his gun loaded. Paying Mrs Hudson for the repairs was much easier than getting a bored consulting detective out of handcuffs he'd lost the key to.

Just then Mrs Hudson walked through the front door, bag of groceries in her hand.  
"Sherlock, what are you sitting in the stairs for?" She asked.  
"I'm handcuffed to the railings, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock explained, "And John has lost the key to unlock them."  
"I would know where the key is if you hadn't up ended the drawer," John ground out in irritation.  
"Oh, I should be able to get those unlocked for you, dear," Mrs Hudson smiled, "Just let me put my groceries away."  
She disappeared into her kitchen, the doctor and the detective stared blinkingly after her. A few minutes later she reappeared, hair pin in hand.  
"Now let me have a look at that lock," She knelt beside Sherlock, angling the end of the pin into the key slot. After a few moments of wiggling, there was a click and the handcuffs loosened and opened.  
"There you go, dear," She smiled as Sherlock rubbed at his wrists. "Will you be here for dinner John?"  
"I should be, Mrs Hudson," John replied, "I had best be getting back to work soon."

Later that night, as John was getting into bed, he heard something fall odd he bed covers and hit the floor. Out of curiosity John sat up, and by the bed, glinting in his lamp light, were his handcuff keys.


End file.
